Neil and Knox. What novelties were they preoccupied with? Were they aware of a implanted by their teacher account for that? strong chance of getting hurt? For what reason were they so assertive? Can the ideas

Chapter 9

Neil pedaled rapidly through the town square on his way to Henley Hall for rehearsals. He cruised past the town hall and a row of shops and continued along the quiet Vermont road until he reached the white brick buildings of Henley Hall. He slid his bike through the gate and parked it in the rack in front of the building. As he entered the auditorium, the director called out to him.

"Hurry up, Neil. We can't do this scene without our Puck."

Neil smiled and dashed to center stage. He grabbed a stick with a jester's head on the end of it from the prop girl and began:

"Yet but three? Come one more;

Two of both kinds makes up four.

Here site comes, curst and sad.—

Cupid is a knavish lad,

Thus to make poor females mad'

Puck looked toward the floor where a mad Hermia, played by Ginny Danburry, crawled onto the stage, exhausted and wild-eyed.

The director, a blond teacher in her forties, stopped Ginny as she started her lines and turned toward Neil. "Good, Neil," she complimented. "I really get the feeling your Puck knows he's in charge. Remember that he takes great delight in what he's doing."

Neil nodded and repeated boldly and impishly: "'Cupid is a knavish lad, thus to make poor females mad!'"

"Excellent," the director said with a smile. "Con­tinue, Ginny."

Ginny crawled back onto the stage and started her lines:

"Never so weary, never so in woe,

Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with briers,

I can no further crawl, no further go."

The director gestured and pointed as the stu­dents ran through the scene several times.

"See you tomorrow," Neil called when they'd finally finished rehearsals for the day. He walked to the bike rack in the twilight, his eyes flashing and his face flushed from the thrill he got from acting.

He rode back through the sleepy Vermont town to Welton Academy, repeating the lines he had prac­ticed for the past two hours.

Neil approached the Welton gates cautiously, making sure no one was around. He pumped up the hill to the dorm and parked his bike. As he started into the building, he spotted Todd huddled motion­less on the stone wall.

"Todd?" he called, walking over to get a better look. Todd sat shivering in the dark without a coat. "What's going on?" Neil asked, staring at his room­mate. Todd didn't answer. "Todd, what's the matter?" Neil said, sitting next to him on the wall. "It's freezing out here!"

"It's my birthday," Todd said flatly.

"It is?" Neil said. "Why didn't you tell me? Happy birthday! You get anything?"

Except for his chattering teeth, Todd sat silent and still. He pointed to a box. Neil opened it to find the same monogrammed desk set Todd already had in the room.

"This is your desk set," Neil said. "I don't get it."

"They gave me the exact same thing as last year!" Todd cried. "They didn't even remember!'

"Oh," Neil said in a hushed tone.

"Oh," Todd mocked.

"Well, maybe they thought you'd need another one, a new one,’’ Neil suggested after a long awkward pause. "Maybe they thought ..."

"Maybe they don't think at all unless it's about my brother!" Todd said angrily. "His birthday is always a big to-do." He looked at the desk set and laughed. "The stupid thing is, I didn't even like the first one!"

"Look, Todd, you're obviously underestimating the value of this desk set," Neil said flippantly, trying to change the mood.

"What?"

"I mean," Neil said and tried to smile. "This is one special gift! Who would want a football or a baseball bat or a car when they could get a desk set as wonderful as this one!"

"Yeah!" Todd laughed, infected by Neil's humor. "And just look at this ruler!"

They laughed as they both looked at the desk set. By now it was pitch dark and cold. Neil shivered.

"You know what Dad called me when I was growing up? 'Five ninety-eight’ That's what all the chemicals in the human body would be worth if you bottled them raw and sold them. He told me that was all I'd ever be worth unless I worked every day to improve myself. Five ninety-eight."

Neil sighed and shook his head in disbelief? No wonder Todd is so screwed up, he thought.

"When I was little," Todd continued, "I thought all parents automatically loved their kids. That's what my teachers told me. That's what I read in the books they gave me. That's what I believed. Well, my parents might have loved my brother, but they did not love me."

Todd stood, took a deep anguished breath, and walked into the dorm. Neil sat motionless on the freezing stone wall, groping for something to say. "Todd ..." he called lamely, as he ran in after his roommate.

"Hey," Cameron shouted as the boys started into Mr. Keating's room the next afternoon. "There's a note on the board to meet in the courtyard."

"I wonder what Mr. Keating is up to today’' Pitts grinned expectantly.

The boys raced down the hall and out the door into the chilly courtyard. Mr. McAllister peered out from his classroom door, shaking his head in annoyance.

"People," Keating said as the boys gathered around him. "A dangerous element of conformity has been seeping into your work. Mister Pitts, Cameron, Overstreet, and Chapman, line up over here please." He pointed to the four boys to stand near him. ‘On the count of four, I want you to begin walking together around the courtyard. Nothing to think about. No grade here. One, two, three, go!"

The boys began walking. They walked down one side of the courtyard, across the back, up the other side, and across the front, completing the square.

"That's the way," Keating said. "Please continue."

The boys walked around the courtyard again as the rest of the class and the teacher watched. Soon they began to walk in step, a march-like cadence emanating from the pavement. They continued in a one-two-three-four pattern as Keating began to clap to the rhythm.

"There it is ... Hear it?" he called, clapping louder in time. "One two, one two, one two, one two . . . We're all having fun, in Mr. Keating's class ..."

Sitting in his empty classroom grading papers, McAllister observed the commotion through the window. The four marchers picked up on their cadence. They lifted their legs high and swung their arms back and forth, keeping the rhythm alive. The class joined in clapping out the beat.

Distracted by the clapping and cheering, Dean Nolan put down his work and peered through the window at the drill-team activity below. Nolan's eyebrows furrowed as he frowned at Keating clap­ping and shouting to the English class. What in the world are they doing? he wondered.

"All right, stop," Mr. Keating called to the marchers. "You may have noticed how at the beginning Misters Overstreet and Pitts seemed to have a different stride than the others—Pitts with his long lurches, Knox with that light little bounce—but soon all were walking in the same cadence. Our encouragement made it even more marked," he pointed out.

"Now, this experiment was not to single out Pitts or Overstreet. What it demonstrates is how difficult it is for any of us to listen to our own voice or maintain our own beliefs in the presence of others. If any of you think you would have marched differently, then ask yourself why you were clap­ping. Lads, there is a great need in all of us to be accepted, but you must trust what is unique or different about yourself, even if it is odd or unpop­ular. As Frost said, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference".

The bell rang, but the boys remained routed in their spots, watching Keating and absorbing his message. Then Keating saluted the class and walked off.

Nolan moved away from his window as the class dispersed. What do I do with this one? he thought. McAllister, chuckling at Keating's antics, returned to grading his papers.

The boys walked from the courtyard to their next class. "We're meeting at the cave after dinner," Cameron said to Neil.

"What time?"

"Seven-thirty."

"I'll pass it along," Neil said as he walked over to Todd.

Later that night, Todd, Neil, Cameron, Pitts, and Meeks sat around a fire in the cave, warming their hands. A thick fog had moved in, and the trees swayed noisily from the gusty wind.

"It's spooky out tonight," Meeks said with a shiver, moving closer to the fire. "Where's Knox?"

"Getting ready for that party," Pitts chuckled.

"What about Charlie? He's the one who insisted on this meeting," Cameron said.

The others shrugged, Neil opened the meeting: "'I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately... to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life . . .'" Neil stopped short as he listened to a rustle in the woods. They all heard something, and it sure wasn't the wind. Funny, it sounded like a bunch of girls giggling.

"I can't see a thing," a girl's voice echoed into the cave.

"It's just over here," the boys heard Charlie say.

The fire glowed brightly on the faces of the boys surrounding it as Charlie and two older girls came giggling into the cave.

"Hey, guys," Charlie said, holding his arm around the shoulder of a pretty blond, "meet Gloria and ..." He hesitated and looked at Gloria's friend, a plain girl, with dark hair and green eyes.

"Tina," she said awkwardly, taking a drink from a can of beer.

"Tina and Gloria," Charlie said happily, "this is the pledge class of the Dead Poets Society."

"It's such a strange name!" Gloria laughed. "Won't you tell us what it means?"

"I told you, it's a secret," Charlie said.

"Isn't he precious?" Gloria oozed as she hugged Charlie affectionately. The boys looked flabber­gasted at these wild, exotic creatures who had entered their cave. They were obviously older, probably around twenty or so, and the boys all wondered the same thing—where had Charlie picked them up?

"Guys," Charlie said, pulling Gloria close to him as the other boys' eyes opened even wider, "I have an announcement. In keeping with the spirit of passionate experimentation of the Dead Poets, I'm giving up the name Charles Dalton. From now on, call me 'Nuwanda.'"

The girls giggled; the boys groaned. "You mean I can't call you Charlie anymore, honey?" Gloria asked, putting her arms around his neck. "What's ‘Numama' mean, sugar?"

"It's Nuwanda, and I made it up," Charlie said.

"I'm cold," Gloria said as she squeezed closer to Charlie.

"Let's get some more twigs for the fire," Meeks said.

Charlie shot Meeks a look as he and the other boys left the cave. Charlie walked to one wall, scraped off some mud and wiped it on his face like an Indian brave. He gave Gloria a sexy stare and followed the boys off into the forest to gather some firewood. Tina and Gloria whispered and giggled.

As the society pledges were tramping through the woods, Knox Overstreet bicycled off campus to the Danburry residence. He parked his bike in the bushes on the side of the house, took off his over­coat, and stuffed it in his saddlebag. He straight­ened his tie, leapt up the steps to the front door, and knocked. Loud music blared from the house, but no one answered the door. He knocked again, then turned the knob and walked in.

Knox found a wild fraternity party in progress. He saw one couple making out on the entrance hall couch. Other couples were on chairs, couches, stairs, or on the floor, oblivious to anyone else around them. Knox stood in the entrance hall, unsure what to do. Just then he spotted Chris, walking out of the kitchen, her hair an uncombed mess.

"Chris!" he called.

"Oh, hi," she said casually. 'I’m glad you made it. Did you bring anybody?"

"No," Knox said.

"Ginny Danburry's here. Look for her," Chris said as she started to walk away.

"But, Chris ..." Knox shouted over the blast­ing music.

"I gotta find Chet," she called back. "Make yourself at home."

Knox's shoulders slumped as Chris walked briskly away. He climbed over couples sprawled on the floor and dejectedly looked around for Ginny Danburry. Some party, he thought.

Out near the cave at Welton the boys stumbled in darkness, feeling the ground for twigs and logs.

"Charlie ..." Neil hissed.

"It's Nuwanda."

"Nuwanda," Neil said patiently. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, unless you object to having girls here," Charlie said.

"Well, of course not," Pitts said, bumping into Neil. "Sorry. It's just that ... you should have warned us."

"I thought I'd be spontaneous," Charlie whis­pered. "I mean, that's the point of this whole thing, isn't it?"

"Where'd you find them?" Neil asked.

"They were walking along the fence past the soccer field. Said they were curious about the school so I invited them to the meeting," he said matter-of-factly.

"Do they go to Henley Hall?" Cameron asked.

"I don't think they're in school," Charlie said.

"They're townies?!" Cameron nearly choked.

"Sshh, Cameron, what's the matter with you?" Charlie said. "You act like they're your mother or something. You afraid of them?"

"Hell, no. I'm not afraid of them! It's just, if we get caught with them, we're dead."

"Say, boys, what's going on out there?" Gloria called from the cave.

"Just gathering wood," Charlie called back. "We're on our way." Turning to Cameron, Charlie whispered, "You just keep your mouth shut, jerk-off, and there's nothing to worry about."

"Watch out, who you call a jerk-off, Dalton!"

"Oh, calm down, Cameron," Neil said.

"It's Nuwanda," Charlie snapped back as he headed into the cave. The others followed. Cameron seethed with anger. He watched the boys enter the cave, waited for a minute, then followed.

They, threw their twigs and a log they'd found on the fire, and sat around the growing flames. "Wonder how Knox is making out." Pitts laughed.

"Poor guy," Neil sighed. "He's probably in for a big disappointment."

It was a disappointed Knox who wandered through the huge Danburry house and ended up in the butler's pantry. Several kids stood talking while one couple was kissing passionately. Knox tried not to look as the boy's hands kept moving up the girl's skirt, and she kept pushing them away. Knox spotted Ginny Danburry, and they exchanged em­barrassed smiles.

"You Mutt Sanders's brother?" a huge line­backer-type guy asked Knox as he mixed a drink.

"No." Knox shook his head.

"Bubba!" the linebacker called to another huge, drunk jock who leaned against the refrigerator. "This guy look like Mutt Sanders?"

"You his brother?" Bubba asked.

"No relation," Knox said. "Never heard of him. Sorry."

"Say, Steve," Bubba said to the linebacker, "where's your manners? Here's Mutt's brother, and you don't offer him a drink? Want some bourbon?"

"Actually I don't ..." Steve didn't even hear Knox. He pushed a glass into Knox's hand and filled it with bourbon, adding a tiny splash of coke.

Bubba clicked glasses with Knox. "To Mutt," he said.

"To Mutt," Steve, the linebacker, echoed. '"To . . . Mutt," Knox agreed. Bubba and Steve drained their glasses in one swallow. Knox followed their lead and burst into a coughing fit. Steve poured everyone more bourbon. Knox felt as if his whole chest was on fire.

"So what's Mutt been up to?" Bubba asked.

"Actually," Knox said, still coughing, "I don't really . . . know Mutt."

"To Mighty Mutt," Bubba said, holding up his glass.

"To Mighty Mutt," Steve echoed.

"Mighty . . . Mutt," Knox coughed as they drained their glasses again. Knox continued to cough, and the linebacker knocked him on the back.

"Take it easy there, bud," he laughed.

"Well, I'd better find Patsy," Bubba hiccupped as he slapped Knox on the back. "Say hello to Mutt for me."

"Will do," Knox said. He turned to see Ginny smile at him as she wandered out of the pantry.

"Gimme your glass, bud," Steve called, pouring Knox more bourbon. Knox felt his head begin to swim.

The fire blazed inside the cave. The boys and Gloria and Tina sat closely around the woodpile, mesmerized by the dancing flames. The candle on the head of the "cave god" sputtered.

"I heard you guys were weird, but not this weird," Tina said as she looked at the pitted statue. She pulled out a pint of whiskey and offered some to Neil. He took it and sipped, trying to act as if it were natural to take a swig. He handed it back to Tina.

"Go ahead, pass it around," she said. The fire and the warmth of the whiskey gave her plain face a pretty, flushed glow.

The bottle went around the circle. Each of them tried to pretend he liked the bitter taste. Unlike most of the others, Todd managed to keep from coughing as he swallowed the whiskey down.

"Yeah!" Gloria said, impressed by Todd's drink­ing. "Don't you guys miss having girls here?" she asked.

"Miss it?" Charlie said. "It drives us crazy! That's part of what this club is about. In fact, I'd like to announce that I've published an article in the school paper, in the name of the Dead Poets Society, demanding girls be admitted to Welton, so we can all stop beating off."

"You what?" Neil shouted, standing up. "How did you do that?"

"I'm one of the proofers," Charlie boasted. "I slipped the article in."

"Oh God," Pitts moaned. "It's over now!"

"Why?" Charlie asked. "Nobody knows who we are."

"Don't you think they'll figure out who did it?" Cameron shouted. "Don't you know they'll come to you and demand to know what the Dead Poets Society is? Charlie, you had no right to do some­thing like that!"

"It's Nuwanda, Cameron."

"That's right," Gloria cooed, putting her arm around Charlie. "It's Nuwanda."

"Are we just playing around out here or do we mean what we say? If all we do is come and read a bunch of poems to each other, what the hell are we doing?" Charlie demanded.

"You still shouldn't have done it," Neil said, pacing around the cave. "You don't speak for the club."

"Hey, would you stop worrying about your pre­cious little necks," Charlie said. "If they catch me, I'll tell them I made it up. All your asses are safe. Look, Gloria and Tina didn't come here to listen to us argue. Are we gonna have a meeting or what?"

"Yeah. How do we know if we want to join if you don't have a meeting?"

Neil raised his eyebrows questioningly at Char­lie. "Join?" he asked.

Charlie ignored him and turned to Tina. "'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate – "'

Tina melted into warm goo. "Oh, that's so sweet!" she cried, and threw her arms around Charlie. The other boys tried to appear disinterested, as if they weren't really jealous.

"I wrote that for you," Charlie told Tina.

Her eyes popped in delight. "You did?!"

"I'll write one for you, too, Gloria," he said quickly, noticing her face turn red with envy. He closed his eyes. "'She walks in beauty, like the night . . .

Charlie opened his eyes after the first few words and stood up from the fire. Trying to cover up his forgetfulness, he walked across the cave. "'She walks in beauty, like the night,'" he repeated. He turned his back, opened a book, and read quickly to himself, while Gloria watched expectantly. He closed it, put the book down, and turned back to Gloria. "'Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes.'"

Gloria squealed with delight. "Isn't he wonderful?"

The other boys sat ashen-faced and seething with jealousy over Charlie's escapades. Gloria squeezed Charlie tight.

At that same moment, Knox Overstreet was experiencing some jealousy of his own as he stum­bled through the crowded Danburry house. "Boy, were those guys right," he mumbled to himself as he thought of Chris and Chet and remembered his friends' warning not to get his hopes too high over Chris.

The house was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming through the windows. Music by the Drifters played loudly. Couples were inter­twined everywhere, making out.

Drink in hand, Knox tripped over a couple on the floor, tipsy from the innumerable bourbons without coke that he had downed with Bubba and Steve.

"Hey!" an angry voice shouted. "Watch where you're going! What'd ya have, too much to drink, buddy?"

Chapter 10

"Sorry," Knox whispered, as he fell onto the sofa. He leaned back, clutching his half-full glass, and took a long swig of the bitter bourbon. It seemed to burn less now as it slid down his throat.

He looked around, loosening up from the effect of the booze. To his left was a tangled couple that sounded like a giant panting beast. To his right was another pair who seemed to have sunk right into the sofa. Knox wanted to stand up, but he realized that the couple he had tripped over was now rolled against his shins, pinning him in place. He looked around and almost giggled. Oh well, I may as well make himself comfortable, he said to himself. The bodies surrounding him were too busy to notice him anyway.

The music stopped, and the sound of heavy breathing filled the room. This sounds like an artificial respiration ward, Knox thought to himself, wishing he too had a partner. He checked on the couple to his right. I think he's going to chew her lips off, he thought. He turned to the couple on his left.

"Oh, Chris, you're so beautiful," he heard the boy's voice say.

Oh my God, it's Chris and Chet! Knox thought, his heart beginning to throb. Chris Noel was sitting right next to him on the couch!

The music started up again, and the strains of the Drifters singing "This Magic Moment" filled the room. Knox's head was spinning. Chris and Chet were going at it full force. Knox tried to look away but his eyes were riveted on Chris.

"Chris,” Chet groaned, "you are so gorgeous." Chet kissed Chris hard, and she leaned against Knox. In the moonlit room Knox stared at the out­line of Chris's face, the nape of her neck, the curves of her breasts. He quickly downed the rest of his drink and forced himself to look away.

Oh my God, help me, he thought as Chris leaned more heavily on him. Knox's face was contorted in agony as he felt himself struggle with temptation. He tried not to look but he knew he was losing his inner battle.

Suddenly, he turned toward Chris again. He melted as his emotions took over. "Carpe breastum," he said to himself, closing his eyes. "Seize the breast!"

"Huh?" Knox heard Chris say to Chet.

"I didn't say anything," Chet said. The pair continued to kiss while Knox felt his hand, drawn by a powerful magnetic force, reach out and lightly stroke the nape of Chris's neck, then down toward her breast. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes while he slowly caressed Chris.

Thinking that Chet's hands were on her, Chris responded eagerly and Knox started breathing heavily. "Oh, Chet, that feels fabulous," Chris said in the dark.

"It does?" Chet sounded surprised. "What?"

"You know," she said secretively.

Knox pulled his hand away. Chet looked up for a moment and then kissed Chris again. "Don't stop, Chet," Chris moaned.

"Stop what?"

"Chet ..."

Knox put his hand back on Chris's neck and started rubbing her, gently moving down toward her breast.

"Oh, oh," Chris moaned.

Chet pulled back, trying to figure out what Chris was talking about, but he gave up and started to kiss her again. Chris moaned with pleasure.

Knox leaned his head back on the sofa. His breathing was slow and deep. The sound of the music in the room grew louder. Unable to resist, he rubbed Chris's chest, getting dangerously close to her breast. Chris was breathing hard now, too.

Knox felt himself slip into ecstasy just as his glass fell out of his hand.

Suddenly, Chet's hand grabbed Knox's hand, and a lamp light rudely flicked on. Knox sat face to face with a furious Chet and Chris, who was totally confused.

"What are you doing?" Chet yelled.

"Knox?" Chris shielded her eyes from the sudden light.

"Chet! Chris!" Knox said, pretending to be sur­prised. "What are you doing here?"

"Why you ..." Chet screamed. He smashed Knox in the face with his fist, grabbed him by the shirt and, throwing him to the floor, jumped on him. He began swinging at Knox's face, which Knox tried desperately to protect. "You little jerk!" Chet shouted. Chris tried to pull him away.

"Chet, you don't have to hurt him," Chris said. Chet's fist hit Knox over and over again.

"Chet, stop! He didn't mean anything!" Chris cried. She pushed Chet off. Knox rolled over, holding his face. "That's enough," Chris yelled, banging on Chet's chest, trying to get him away.

Chet stood over Knox, who lay limply holding his bloody nose and bruised face. "I'm sorry, Chris, I'm sorry," Knox cried.

"You want some more, you little . . . Huh? Get the hell out of here!"

Chet moved at Knox again, but Chris and some of the others held him back. Several of the kids led Knox out of the room.

Staggering toward the kitchen, Knox turned and yelled, drunkenly, "Chris, I'm sorry!"

"Next time I see you, you're dead!" Chet screamed.

The Dead Poets Society was still convened, unaware that one of its pledges was in deep trouble. In the cave the fire burned brightly, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Gloria sat with her arm around Charlie, staring at him in adoration. The bottle of whiskey passed between Tina and the others.

"Hey guys, why don't you show Tina the Dead Poets garden?" Charlie said, nodding toward the cave entrance.

"Garden?" Meeks said, sounding surprised.

"What garden?" Pitts echoed.

Charlie silently motioned with his eyes for Pitts and the others to get lost. Neil caught on and elbowed Pitts, who got the hint.

"Oh, right. That garden. Come on, guys, " he said.

"This is so strange!" Tina said, sounding con­fused. "You guys even have a garden?"

Everyone had left the cave except Meeks, who stood around looking baffled. "What are you guys talking about?" Meeks asked. Charlie stared at him with daggers in his eyes. "Charles, uh, Nuwanda, we don't have a garden," Meeks said.

Neil came back in and pulled Meeks out. "Come on, you idiot!" Neil laughed.

Charlie waited for them to go. He looked at Gloria and smiled. "God, for a smart guy, he's so stupid!"

Gloria stared into Charlie's eyes. Charlie smiled. "I think he's sweet," she said.

"I think you're sweet," Charlie sighed, closing his eyes and leaning in slowly to kiss her. Just as his lips brushed hers, Gloria stood up.

"You know what really excites me about you?" she asked.

Blinking, Charlie looked up. "What?"

"Every guy that I meet wants me for one thing. . . . You're not like that."

"I'm not?"

"No!" she smiled. "Anybody else would have been all over me by now. Make me up some more poetry," she said.

"But ..." Charlie stammered.

"Please! It's so wonderful to be appreciated for . . . you know . . . what you have inside." Charlie groaned and put his hand over his face. Gloria turned and looked at him. "Nuwanda? Please . . . ?"

"All right! I'm thinking!" He paused for a mo­ment, then recited:

"Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediment's. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove."

Gloria moaned with satisfaction. "Don't stop!" Charlie continued to recite as Gloria's moans grew louder.

"O, no, it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken . . ."

"This is better than sex any day," Gloria cried. "This is ROMANCE!"

Charlie's eyes rolled in frustration, but he con­tinued to recite poems well into the night.

The next day, the entire student body was sum­moned to the Welton Academy Chapel. A buzz droned among the boys as they moved into their seats, passing copies of school newspapers among themselves.

Knox Overstreet sat down trying to hide his bruised and swollen face. Neil, Todd, Pitts, Meeks, Cameron, and especially Charlie wore faces drawn with exhaustion. Pitts stifled a yawn as he handed Charlie a briefcase.

"All set," Pitts whispered. Charlie nodded.

Dean Nolan entered the chapel as the students quickly put away all the newspapers and stood. Nolan took long strides to the podium and mo­tioned for the boys to sit down. He cleared his throat loudly.

"In this week's issue of WELTON HONORS there appeared an unauthorized and profane article about the need for girls at Welton. Rather than spend my valuable time ferreting out the guilty parties—and let me assure you I will find them—I am asking any and all students who know anything about this article to make themselves known here and now. Whoever the guilty persons are, this is your only chance to avoid expulsion from this school."

Nolan stood silently, waiting for a response. Suddenly, the sound of a telephone ringing broke the heavy silence. Charlie briskly lifted the brief­case into his lap and opened it. Inside was the ringing telephone. The students whispered in hushed astonishment. No one had ever done some­thing this outrageous at Welton! Undaunted, Char­lie answered the phone.

"Welton Academy, hello?" he said for all to hear. "Yes, he is, just a moment. Mr. Nolan, it's for you," Charlie said with mock seriousness.

The dean's face turned beet-red. "What?" Nolan screeched.

Charlie held the receiver out to Nolan. "It's God. He said we should have girls at Welton," Charlie said into the phone as a blast of laughter from the students filled the old stone chapel.

The dean did not hesitate to react to the stunt. Before he knew it, Charlie found himself standing in the middle of Nolan's office as the dean paced furiously. "Wipe that smirk off your face," Nolan hissed. "Who else was involved in this?"

"No one, sir," Charlie said. "It was just me. I do the proofing for the paper, so I inserted my article instead of Rob Crane's. "

"Mr. Dalton," Nolan said, "if you think you're the first one to try to get thrown out of this school, think again. Others have had similar notions and they have failed just as surely as you will fail. Assume the position."

Charlie obeyed, and Nolan pulled out a huge, old paddle. The paddle had holes drilled in it to speed its progress. Nolan took off his jacket and moved behind Charlie.

"Count aloud, Mr. Dalton," Nolan instructed as he slammed the paddle into Charlie's buttocks.

"One." Nolan swung the paddle again, this time putting more power into it. Charlie winced. "Two."

Nolan delivered, and Charlie counted. By the fourth lick, Charlie's voice was barely audible and his face was contorted with pain.

Mrs. Nolan, the dean's wife and secretary, sat in the outer office trying not to listen as the punishment proceeded. In the adjacent honor room, three students, including Cameron, worked at easels, sketching the moose heads on the wall. They heard the paddle hitting Charlie and were filled with fear and awe. Cameron couldn't draw the moose.

By the seventh lick, tears flowed freely down Charlie's cheeks. "Count!" Nolan shouted.

By the ninth and tenth licks, Charlie choked on the words. Nolan stopped after the tenth lick and walked around to face the boy. "Do you still insist that this was your idea and your idea alone?" he asked.

Charlie choked back the pain. "Yes . . . sir."

"What is this 'Dead Poets Society?' I want names,'' Nolan shouted.

Feeling faint, Charlie hoarsely replied, "It's only me, Mr. .Nolan. I swear. I made it up."

"If I find that there are others, Mr. Dalton, they will be expelled, and you will remain enrolled. Do you understand? Now stand up."

Charlie obeyed. His face was blood-red as he fought back tears of pain and humiliation.

"Welton can forgive, Mr. Dalton, provided you have the courage to admit your mistakes. You will make your apology to the entire school."

Charlie stumbled out of Nolan's office and headed slowly back to the junior dorm. The boys were milling around in their rooms, walking in and out of the hallway, waiting for their friend to return. When they saw Charlie coming, they all dashed into their rooms and pretended to be studying.

Charlie walked down the hallway, moving slowly, trying not to show his pain. As he neared his room, Neil, Todd, Knox, Pitts, and Meeks approached him.

"What happened?" Neil asked. "Are you all right? Were you kicked out?"

"No," Charlie said, not looking at anyone.

"What happened?" Neil asked again.

"I'm supposed to turn everybody in, apologize to the school, and all will be forgiven," Charlie said. He opened the door and walked into his room.

"What are you going to do?" Neil asked. "Char­lie?"

"Damn it, Neil, the name is Nuwanda," Charlie said, as he gave the boys a loaded look and slammed his door shut.

The boys looked at each other. Smiles of admi­ration broke out in the group. Charlie had not been broken.

Later that afternoon, Nolan walked into one of the Welton classroom buildings and headed down the corridor to Mr. Keating's room. He stopped at the door, knocked, and entered the classroom. Mr. Keating and Mr. McAllister were talking when he walked in.

"Mr. Keating, may I have a word with you?" Nolan said, interrupting the two teachers.

"Excuse me," McAllister said as he scurried out of the room.

Nolan paused and looked around. "This was my first classroom, John, did you know that?" Nolan said, as he walked slowly around the room. "My first desk," he said nostalgically.

"I didn't know you taught," Keating replied.

"English. Way before your time. It was hard giving it up, I’ll tell you." He paused, then looked straight at Keating. "I'm hearing rumors, John, of some unorthodox teaching methods in your class­room. I'm not saying they have anything to do with the Dalton boy's outburst, but I don't think I have to warn you that boys his age are very impressionable."

"Your reprimand made quite an impression, I'm sure," Keating said.

Nolan's eyebrows raised for an instant. He let the comment pass. "What was going on in the courtyard the other day?" he asked.

"Courtyard?" Keating repeated.

"Boys marching. Clapping in unison ..."

"Oh that. That was an exercise to prove a point. About the evils of conformity. I ..."

"John, the curriculum here is set. It's proven. It works. If you question it, what's to prevent them from doing the same?"

"I always thought education was learning to think for yourself," Keating said.

Nolan laughed. "At these boys' ages? Not on your life! Tradition, John! Discipline." He patted Keating on the shoulder patronizingly. "Prepare them for college, and the rest will take care of itself."

Mr. Nolan smiled and left. Keating stood silent, staring out the window. After a moment, McAllister stuck his head in the door. He had obviously been listening.

"I wouldn't worry about the boys being too conformist if I were you, John," he said.

"Why is that?"

"Well, you yourself graduated from these hallowed halls, did you not?"

"Yes".

"So, if you want to raise a confirmed atheist", McAllister observed, "give him a rigid religious upbringing. Works every time."

Keating stared at McAllister, then suddenly let out a laugh. McAllister smiled, turned, and disappeared down the hall.

Later that night, Keating walked over to the junior-class dorm. The boys were just hurrying out to club meetings and activities. He approached Charlie, who was walking out the door with a group of friends.

"Mr. Keating!" Charlie said, looking surprised.

"That was a ridiculous stunt, Mr. Dalton," Keat­ing said harshly.

"You're siding with Mr. Nolan?" Charlie said in disbelief. "What about Carpe Diem and sucking all the marrow out of life and all that?'

"Sucking out the marrow doesn't mean getting the bone stuck in your throat, Charles. There is a place for daring and a place for caution, and a wise man understands which is called for." Keating said.

"But I thought . . ." Charlie stammered.

"Getting expelled from this school is not an act of wisdom or daring. It's far from perfect but there are still opportunities to be had here."

"Yeah?" Charlie answered angrily. "Like what?"

"Like, if nothing else, the opportunity to attend my classes, understand?"

Charlie smiled. "Yes, sir."

Keating turned toward the other Dead Poets pledges, who stood nearby waiting for Charlie. "So keep your heads about you—the lot of you!" he ordered.

"Yes, sir," they said. Keating smiled slightly and left.

The next day the boys sat in Keating's classroom and watched their teacher walk to the board and scrawl the word "COLLEGE" in big bold letters.

"Gentlemen," he said, "today we will consider a skill which is indispensable for getting the most out of college - analyzing books you haven't read." He paused and looked around as the boys laughed.

"College will probably destroy your love for poetry. Hours of boring analysis, dissection, and criticism will see to that. College will also expose you to all manner of literature – much of it transcendent works of magic that you must devour; some of it utter dreck that you must avoid like the plague."

He paced in front of the class as he spoke.

"Suppose you are taking a course entitled, 'Modern Novels'. All semester you have been reading masterpieces such as the touching Pere Goriot by Balzac and the moving Fathers and Sons by Turgenev, but when you receive your assignment for your final paper, you discover that you are to write an essay on the theme of parental love in The Doubtful Debutante, a novel—and I use that term generously here – by none other than the professor himself."

Keating looked at the boys with a raised eyebrow and then continued. "After reading the first three pages of the book, you realize that you would rather volunteer for combat than waste your precious earthly time infecting your mind with this sewage, but do you despair? Take an F? Absolutely not. Because you are prepared."

The boys watched and listened intently. Keating continued to pace. "Open The Doubtful Deb and learn from the jacket that the book is about Frank, a farm equipment salesman who sacrifices every­thing to provide his social-climbing daughter, Christine, with the debut she so desperately de­sires. Begin your essay by disclaiming the need to restate the plot while at the same time regurgitat­ing enough of it to convince the professor that you've read the book.

"Next, shift to something pretentious and familiar. For instance, you might write, 'What is remarkable to note are the similarities between the author's dire picture of parental love and modern Freudian theory. Christine is Electra, her father is a fallen Oedipus.

"Finally, skip to the obscure and elaborate like this ..." Keating paused, then read, "'What is most remarkable is the novel's uncanny connection with Hindu Indian philosopher Avesh Rahesh Non. Rahesh Non discussed in painful detail the discard­ing of parents by children for the three-headed monster of ambition, money, and social success'. Go on to discuss Rahesh Non's theories about what feeds the monster, how to behead it, et cetera, et cetera. End by praising the professor's brilliant writing and consummate courage in introducing The Doubtful Deb to you."

Meeks raised his hand. "Captain . . . what if you don't know anything about someone like Rahesh Non?"

"Rahesh Non never existed, Mr. Meeks. You make him, or someone like him, up. No self-important college professor would dare admit igno­rance of such an obviously important figure, and you will probably receive a comment like the one I received."

Keating picked up a paper on his desk and read from it to the class: "Your allusions to Rahesh Non were insightful and well presented. Glad to see that someone besides myself appreciates this great but forgotten Eastern master. A-plus."

He dropped the paper back on his desk. "Gentlemen, analyzing dreadful books you haven't read will be on your final exam, so I suggest you practice on your own. Now for some traps of college exams. Take out a blue book and a pencil, boys. This is a pop quiz."

The boys obeyed. Keating passed out tests. He set up a screen in the front of the room, then went to the back of the room and set up a slide projector.

"Big universities are Sodoms and Gomorrahs filled with those delectable beasts we see so little of here: women," he said and smiled. "The level of distraction is dangerously high, but this quiz is designed to prepare you. Let me warn you, this test will count. Begin."

The boys began their tests. Keating lit up the slide projector and put a slide into the machine. He focused on the screen a slide of a beautiful, college-aged girl, leaning over to pick up a pencil. The girl had a remarkable figure, and, bending over as she did, her panties were exposed. The boys glanced up at the screen from their tests. Almost all of them did double takes.

"Concentrate on your tests, boys. You have twenty minutes," Keating said, as he advanced the projector. This time he focused a slide of a beautiful woman in scanty lingerie from a magazine ad. The boys glanced up at the screen, struggling to concentrate. Keating watched their obvious difficulty, amused, as he continued the slide show of beautiful women in revealing and provocative poses, tight blowups of naked female Greek statues—women in a seemingly endless, tantalizing stream. The boys' heads bobbed up and down from the screen to their blue books. On his paper Knox had written "Chris, Chris, Chris," over and over again as he stared numbly at the screen.

Assignment IV. Chapters 9, 10

1. Study the active vocabulary. Recall the situations in which it is employed.

to underestimate

to be screwed up

in disbelief

to be up to smth.

on the count of

To single out

to grade papers

to drive smb. crazy

to figure out

to expel (expulsion) from school

to have a word with smb.

indispensable

to see to smth.

social-climbing

2. Translate the sentences and paraphrase them using synonymous expressions:

1. Excuse me, could I have a word with you?

2. Mr. Braithwaite wondered what the children were up to.

3. If you keep on underestimating the importance of studies you will be expelled from school.

4. I can’t figure him out yet but he seems to aim at social-climbing.

5. After grading the students’ papers the teacher’s eyebrows raised in disbelief.

6. We must admit your help was indispensable.

7. You needn’t remind him of his duties he’ll see to the passports and visas himself.

8. No wonder she can’t drive anyone crazy. She is so screwed up!

3. Explain what caused the following utterances and what they mean:

1. “Maybe they don’t think at all unless it’s about my brother!” Todd said angrily. “His birthday is always a big to-do.” (p. 2)

2. “No wonder Todd is so screwed up”, he thought. (p. 2)

3. “It’s Nuwanda, and I made it up,” Charlie said. (p. 4)

4. “Some party,” he thought. (p. 4)

5. “If they catch me, I’ll tell them I made it up. All your asses are safe.” (p. 7)

6. “This is better than sex any day,” Gloria cried. “This is ROMANCE!” (p. 10)

7. “Welton can forgive, Mr. Dalton, provided you have the courage to admit your mistakes. You will make your apology to the entire school.” (p. 11)

8. “That was a ridiculous stunt, Mr. Dalton”, Keating said harshly. “You are siding with Mr. Nolan?” Charlie said in disbelief. (p. 13)

4. Write detailed gist to the chapters under study.

5. Get ready to ask fact-finding and problem questions dealing with Neil, Knox, Todd, Charlie and the episodes they are involved in.

6. Imagine that you are Charlie. Make up and read out the text of the article you published in the school newspaper.

7. Questions and topics for discussion:

1. The next meeting of the society. Did it have the same aim? What changes were introduced? Who was the center of attention? Why?

2. The consequences that followed the publication of the article. What was Dean Nolan’s reaction to the article? What kind of punishment was used? Did Charlie turn other pledges in? What advice did Mr. Keating give him?

3. Mr. Keating and his lessons.

• Compare the two lessons depicted in the chapters. Say if there’s any connection between them. Do they have any educational aim? Does the explanation of how to write an essay sound clear? Would you manage to write such an essay? What was the purpose of using slides?

• Analyze Mr. Keating’s talk with Dean Nolan and Mr. McAllister. Recall the main points of it and say whose opinion you share.

Chapter 11

The brisk Vermont winter engulfed the campus at Welton. The once colorful foliage of the fall now blanketed the landscape, and fierce winds blew the brittle leaves in torrents.

Todd and Neil, bundled in hooded down jackets and scarves, walked along a path that wound be­tween buildings, the wind howling as Neil rehearsed his lines for A Midsummer Night's Dream.

"'Here, villain, drawn and ready. Where art thou?'" Neil called dramatically from memory.

"I will be with thee straight," Todd read from the script.

"Follow me, then, to plainer ground!" Neil boomed, over the winds. "God I love this!"

"The play?" Todd asked.

"Yes, and acting!" Neil bubbled. "It's got to be one of the most wonderful things in the world. Most people, if they're lucky, live about half an exciting life. If I could get the parts, I could live dozens of great lives!"

He ran and, with a theatrical flourish, leapt onto a stone wall. "To be or not to be, that is the question!' God, for the first time in my whole life, I feel completely alive! You have to try it," he said to Todd. He jumped down from the wall. "You should come to rehearsals. I know they need people to work the lights and stuff."

"No thanks."

"Lots of girls," Neil pointed out impishly. "The girl who plays Hermia is incredible."

"I'll come to the performance," Todd promised.

"Bluck, bluck, bluck . . . chicken!" Neil teased. "Now where were we?"

"Yea, art thou there?" Todd read.

"Put more into it!" Neil urged.

"'YEA, ART THOU THERE?'" Todd bellowed.

"That's it! 'Follow my voice; we'll try no manhood here.'" He bowed and waved to Todd. "Thanks, buddy. See you at dinner," he called, running into the dorm. Todd stood outside watching him, then shook his head and walked off toward the library.

Neil leapt and danced down the hallway, jestering his way past other students who eyed him curiously. He pushed open his door with a flourish and jumped into the room, fencing the air with the jester's stick.

Abruptly, he stopped. Sitting at his desk was his father! Neil's face turned white with shock.

"Father!"

“Neil, you are going to quit this ridiculous, play immediately," Mr. Perry barked.

"Father, I . . ."

Mr. Perry jumped to his feet and pounded his hand on the desk. "Don't you dare talk back to me!" he shouted. "It's bad enough that you've wasted your time with this absurd acting business. But you deliberately deceived me!" He paced back and forth furiously as Neil stood shaking in his shoes.

"How did you expect to get away with this? Answer me!" he yelled. "Who put you up to this? That Mr. Keating?"

"Nobody . . ." Neil stammered. "I thought I'd surprise you. I've gotten all A's and ..."

"Did you really think I wouldn't find out? 'My niece is in a play with your son,' Mrs. Marks says. 'You must be mistaken,' I say. 'My son isn't in a play.' You made a liar out of me, Neil. Now you will go to rehearsal tomorrow and tell them you are quitting."

"Father, I have one of the main parts," Neil explained. "The performance is tomorrow night. Father, please ..."

Mr. Perry's face was white with rage. He moved toward Neil, pointing his finger. "I don't care if the world is coming to an end tomorrow night, you are through with that play! Is that clear? IS THAT CLEAR?"

"Yes, sir." It was all Neil could force himself to say.

Mr. Perry stopped. He stared long and hard at his son. "I've made great sacrifices to get you here, Neil. You will not let me down."

Mr. Perry turned and stalked out. Neil stood still for a long lime, then, walking to his desk, he started pounding on it, harder and harder until his fists went numb and tears began rolling down his cheeks.

Later that evening, all of the society pledges sat together in the Welton dining hall, except Neil, who said he had a headache. They appeared to be having difficulty eating, and old Dr. Hager ap­proached their table, eyeing the boys suspiciously.

"Mr. Dalton, what is wrong, son?" he asked. "Are you having trouble with your meal?"

"No, sir," Charlie replied.

Hager watched the boys. "Misters Meeks and Overstreet and Anderson, are you normally left-handed?" Hager asked after a moment.

“No, sir.”

"Then why are you eating with your left hands?"

The boys looked at each other. Knox spoke for the group. "We thought it would be good to break old habits, sir," he explained.

"What is wrong with old habits, Mr. Overstreet?"

"They perpetuate mechanical living, sir," Knox maintained. "They limit your mind."

"Mr. Overstreet, I suggest you worry less about breaking old habits and more about developing good study habits. Do you understand?" he said firmly.

“Yes, sir.”

"That goes for all of you," Hager said, looking at the table of boys. "Now eat with your correct hands."

The boys obeyed. But once he moved away, Charlie switched hands and began eating with his left hand again. One by one, the others followed. Finally Neil came to the dining room and walked over to their table. He looked solemn and upset. "You okay?" Charlie asked.

"Visit from my father," Neil said.

"Do you have to quit the play?" Todd asked.

"I don't know," Neil said.

"Why don't you talk to Mr. Keating about it," Charlie suggested.

"What good will that do?" Neil asked glumly.

Charlie shrugged. "Maybe he'll have some ad­vice. Maybe he'll even talk to your father."

"Are you kidding?" Neil laughed shortly. "Don't be ridiculous."

In spite of Neil's objections, the boys insisted that Mr. Keating might be able to help Neil solve his problems. After dinner they walked to the teacher's quarters on the second door of the dorm. Todd, Pitts, and Neil stood outside Keating's door. Charlie knocked.

"This is stupid," Neil protested.

"It's better than doing nothing,” Charlie said. He knocked again, but no one came to the door.

"He's not here. Let's go," Neil begged.

Charlie tried the door knob, and the door clicked open. "Let's wait for him," Charlie said as he walked into Keating's room.

"Charlie! Nuwanda!" the others called from the hall. "Get out of there!" But Charlie refused to come out, and after a few minutes of talking and pleading the others gave into their curiosity and entered Keating's room.

The small space was empty and lonely looking. The boys stood around uncomfortably, shifting on their feet, "Nuwanda," Pitts whispered. "We shouldn't be in here!"

Charlie ignored him and got up to look around the room. A small blue suitcase stood on the floor by the door. A few books, some pretty tattered looking, lay on the bed. Charlie walked to the desk and picked up a framed picture of a beautiful girl who looked to be in her twenties. "Whoa, look at her!" he whistled.

Lying next to the picture was a half-written letter. Charlie picked up the paper and read: '"My darling Jessica: It's so lonely at times without you . . . bla bla bla. All I can do to put myself at ease is study your beautiful picture or close my eyes and imagine your radiant smile—but, my poor imagination is a dim substitute for you. Oh, how I miss you and wish—'"

Charlie kept reading as the other boys heard the door creak open. They backed away from Charlie, who suddenly stopped reading when he saw Keating standing in the doorway.

"Hello! Mr. Kealing! Good to see you!' Charlie cried.

Keating walked over to him and calmly took the letter, folded it, and put it in his pocket. "A woman is a cathedral, boys. Worship one at every chance you get," Keating said, he walked to his bureau, opened a drawer and put the letter in. "Anything else you'd care to rifle through, Mr. Dalton?" he asked, looking at Charlie.

"I'm sorry," Charlie apologized. "I, we . . ." Charlie looked around for help. Neil stepped for­ward.

"O Captain! My Captain, we came here so I could talk to you about something," he explained.

"Okay," Keating said, looking at the group. "All of you?"

"Actually, I'd like to talk to you alone," Neil said, looking back at the boys. Charlie and the others looked relieved to leave.

"I gotta go study," Pitts said. "Yeah," the rest of the boys added. "See you, Mr. Keating."

They all hurried out and closed the door behind them. "Drop by any time," Keating said as they left.

"Thank you, sir," they called back through the closed door.

Pitts punched Charlie in the shoulder. "Damn it, Nuwanda, you idiot!" he said.

"I couldn't stop myself," Charlie shrugged.

Keating couldn't help smiling to himself. Neil paced back and forth, looking around. "Gosh," he said. "They don't give you much room around here, do they?"

"Maybe they don't want worldly things distract­ing me from my teaching." Mr. Keating smiled wryly.

"Why do you do it?" Neil asked. "I mean, with all this seize-the-day business, I'd have thought you'd be out seeing the world or something."

"Ah, but I am seeing the world, Neil. The new world. Besides, a place like this needs at least one teacher like me." He smiled at his own joke. "Did you come here to talk about my teaching?"

Neil took a deep breath. "My father is making me quit the play at Henley Hall. When I think about Carpe Diem and all that, I feel like I'm in prison! Acting is everything to me, Mr. Keating. It's what I want to do! Of course, I can see my father's point: We're not a rich family like Charlie's. But he's planned the rest of my life for me, and he's never even asked me what I want!"

"Have you told your father what you just told me? About your passion for acting?" Mr. Keating asked.

"Are you kidding? He'd kill me!"

"Then you're playing a part for him, too, aren't you," Keating observed softly. The teacher watched as Neil paced anxiously. "Neil, I know this seems impossible, but you have to talk to your father and let him know who you really are," Keating said.

"But, I know what he'll say. He'll say that acting is just a whim and that it's frivolous and that I should forget about it. He'll tell me how they're counting on me and to put it out of my mind, 'for my own good.'"

"Well," Keating said, sitting on his bed. "If it's more than a whim, prove it to him. Show him with your passion and commitment that it's what you really want to do. If that doesn't work, at least by then you'll be eighteen and able to do what you want."

"Eighteen! What about the play? The performance is tomorrow night!"

"Talk to him, Neil," Keating urged. "Isn't there an easier way?" Neil begged.

"Not if you're going to stay true to yourself."

Neil and Keating sat silent for a long time.

"Thanks, Mr. Keating," Neil finally said. "I have to decide what to do."

While Neil spoke with Mr. Keating, Charlie, Knox, Pitts, Todd, and Cameron headed out to the cave. Snow was falling, and a soft white blanket seemed to protect the earth from the cold wind that howled through the valley.

The boys scattered around the candle-lit cave, each busy doing his own thing. No one called the meeting to order. Charlie blew sad, melodious notes on his saxophone. Knox sat in one corner, mumbling to himself, as he worked furiously on a love poem to Chris. Todd sat alone writing some­thing too. Cameron studied. Pitts stood at the wall, scratching a quotation from a book into the stone.

Cameron looked at his watch. "Ten minutes to curfew," he reminded them. No one moved.

"What are you writing?" Knox asked Todd.

"I don't know. A poem," Todd said.

"For class?"

"I don't know."

"We're asking for demerits, guys, if we don't beat it out of here. The snow's coming down hard," Cameron said. Charlie ignored Cameron and kept playing the sax. Todd kept writing. Cameron looked around and shrugged. "I'm leaving," he said and walked alone out of the cave.

Knox read his love poem to Chris to himself, then slapped it on the side of his leg. "Damn it! If I could just get Chris to read this poem," he groaned.

"Why don't you read it to her," Pitts suggested. "It worked for Nuwanda."

"She won't even speak to me, Pitts!" Knox cried. "I called her, and she wouldn't even come to the phone."

"Nuwanda recited poetry to Gloria and she jumped all over him . . . right, Nuwanda?"

Charlie stopped playing his sax. He thought a moment. "Absolutely," he agreed and started blow­ing notes again.

Off in the distance, the curfew bell rang. Charlie finished his melody, put his sax in its case, and moved out of the cave. Todd, Cameron, and Pitts picked up their papers and followed him out into the night. Knox stood in the cave alone, looking at his poem. Then, shoving it back in his book, he blew out the candle and ran out through the woods with desperate determination.

"If it worked for him, it will work for me," he said to himself as he plotted a scheme to get his words to Chris.

The next morning the ground was thickly cov­ered with snow. Knox left the dorm early, bundled against the freezing weather and icy winds. He cleaned the snow off his bike, carried it to a plowed path, and sped away, down the hills of Welton Academy over to Ridgeway High.

He left his bike outside the school and ran frantically into the crowded hallway. Boys and girls bustled about, hanging coats in lockers, getting books, talking and joking around with each other. Knox hurried down one corridor and stopped to talk to a student. Then he turned and double-timed it up a flight of stairs to the second floor.

"Chris!" Knox spotted her standing in front of her locker, talking with some girlfriends. She quickly gathered her things and turned as Knox ran up to her.

"Knox! What are you doing here?" She pulled him away from her girlfriends into a corner.

"I came to apologize for the other night. I brought you these, and a poem I wrote."

He held out a bouquet of wilted, frostbitten flowers and the poem. Chris looked at them but did not take them. "If Chet sees you, he'll kill you, don't you know that?" she cried.

"I don't care," he said, shaking his head. "I love you, Chris. You deserve better than Chet and I'm it. Please accept these."

"Knox, you're crazy," Chris said as the bell rang and students ran to their classes.

"Please. I acted like a jerk and I know it. Please?" he begged.

Chris looked at the flowers as though she was considering accepting them. "No," she said, shak­ing her head. "And stop bugging me!" She walked into a classroom and closed the door.

The hallway was clear. Knox stood holding the drooping bouquet and his poem. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled open the door and walked into Chris's classroom.

The students were settling into their seats. Knox pushed past the teacher who was leaning over a desk, helping a student with his homework.

"Knox!" Chris cried. "I don't believe this!"

"All I'm asking you to do is listen," he said, as he unfolded his poem and began to read. The teacher and the class turned and stared at Knox in amazement.

"The heavens made a girl named Chris,

With hair and skin of gold

To touch her would be paradise

To kiss her - glory untold."

Chris turned red and covered her face with her hands. Her friends sat barely restraining giggles and looking at each other in amazement. Knox continued reading:

"They made a goddess and called her

Chris, How? I'll never know.

But though my soul is far behind,

My love can only grow."

Knox read on as though he and Chris were the only ones in the room.

"I see a sweetness in her smile,

Bright light shines from her eyes

But life is complete—contentment is mine,

Just knowing that she's alive."

Knox lowered the paper and looked at Chris, who, utterly embarrassed, peeked out at him through her fingers. Knox put the poem and the flowers on her desk.

"I love you, Chris," he said. Then he turned and walked out of the room.

Chapter 12

Knox flew out of Ridgeway High and raced back to Welton as fast as he could, riding against the blinding snow and over the icy roads. Back on campus, his friends were just finishing their class with Mr. Keating. They were huddled around Keating's desk, laughing, when the bell rang.

"That's it, gentlemen," Keating said, snapping his book shut. Several of the boys groaned, wishing they didn't have to move on to Mr. McAllister's Latin class.

"Neil, could I see you a moment?" the teacher called, as the boys gathered their books and headed out the door.

Neil and Keating waited until the others had left. "What did your father say? Did you talk to him?" Keating asked.

"Yeah," Neil lied.

"Really?" Keating said excitedly. "You told your father what you told me? You let him see your passion for acting?"

"Yeah." Neil felt the lie grow bigger. "He didn't like it one bit, but at least he's letting me stay in the play. Of course, he won't be able to come. He'll be in Chicago on business. But I think he's gonna let me stay with acting. As long as I keep my grades up."

Neil avoided Mr. Keating's eyes. He was so embarrassed by the lie that he didn't even hear what the teacher said to him. He grabbed his books and said he had to run, while Keating stood looking after him, puzzled.

When Knox finally reached campus he ditched his bike near the kitchen at the rear of the main classroom building and raced inside, cold but tri­umphant. He stopped for a moment to enjoy the warmth and smell of the huge cooking area, and helped himself to a sweet roll that had just come out of the oven. He ran into the corridor just as classes were changing and immediately spotted the gang.

"How'd it go?" Charlie asked. "Did you read it to her?"

"Yep!" Knox grinned, swallowing the last of the sweet roll.

"All right!" Pitts slapped him on the back in congratulations. "What did she say?"

"I don't know," Knox replied.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Charlie was puzzled.

The boys surrounded Knox before he could escape and ushered him into a classroom, closing the door behind them. "Okay, Knox," Charlie ordered, "start from the beginning."

That night, the boys milled around the dorm lobby waiting to go to Henley Hall with Mr. Keating for the production of A Midsummer Night's Dream. Knox slumped on a chair by himself, still bewildered by his encounter with Chris, exhilar­ated and confused at the same time.

"Where's Nuwanda?" Meeks asked. "If we don't hurry we're going to miss Neil's entrance!"

"He said something about getting red before he left," Pitts said, shaking his head.

"What does that mean?" Cameron asked.

"You know Charlie," Pitts laughed, just as Nu­wanda scampered down the stairs.

"What's this getting red?" Meeks asked. Charlie checked around. He opened his shirt and revealed a red lightning bolt painted on his chest.

"What's it for?" Todd wanted to know.

"It's an Indian warrior symbol for virility. Makes me feel potent. Like I can drive girls crazy,"

"But what if they see it, Nuwanda?" Pitts asked.

Charlie winked. "So much the better!"

"You are crazy!" Cameron said as the group headed out of the lobby. As they neared the door, they passed Chris, who was just walking in.

Knox nearly fainted. "Chris!" Knox's heart began to beat wildly.

"Knox, why are you doing this to me?" Chris cried.

Knox looked around. "You can't be here!" he said, pushing her into a corner.

Mr. Keating came down the hall, ready to go, and joined the group of boys at the door. "Come on, fellows," he said with a smile, and they left.

"I'll be right there," Knox called after them, and he ushered Chris out of the building into the snowy night.

"If they catch you here, we'll both be in big trouble," Knox said, his teeth chattering from the cold.

"Oh, but it's fine for you to come barging into my school and make a complete fool out of me?" she shouted.

"Sshh, be quiet. Listen. I didn't mean to make a fool of you," he apologized.

"Well, you did! Chet found out, and he’s nuts. It took everything I could do to keep him from coming here and killing you. You have to stop this stuff, Knox!"

"But I love you."

"You say that over and over, but you don't even know me!"

In the distance, Keating and the boys, waiting in the school station wagon, honked for Knox. "Go ahead, I'll walk," he yelled, and the car pulled away. "Of course I know you!" Knox said, turning back to Chris. "From the first time I saw you I knew you had a wonderful soul."

"Just like that?" she asked.

"Of course just like that. That's how you always know when it's right."

"And if it so happens that you're wrong? If it just so happens that I couldn't care less about you?"

"Then you wouldn't be here warning me about Chet," Knox pointed out.

Chris thought this over, "Look," she said, "I've got to go. I'm gonna be late for the play."

"Are you going with Chet?"

"With Chet, to a play? Are you kidding?"

"Then let's go together," Knox suggested.

"Knox, you are so infuriating."

"Just give me one chance. If you don't like me after tonight, I'll stay away forever."

"Uh-huh," Chris said with a cynical smile.

"I promise. Dead Poets Honor. Come with me tonight". Then, if you don't want to see me again, I swear I'll bow out."

Chris hesitated. "God, if Chet found out he'd …”

"Chet won't know anything," Knox promised. "We'll sit in the back and sneak away as soon as it's over."

"Knox, if you promise that this will be the end of it ..."

"Dead Poets Honor," he said, raising his hand.

"What is that?"

"My word." He crossed his heart with his fingers and looked sincerely at Chris. She sighed as he led her reluctantly off toward Henley Hall.

Knox and Chris entered the high-school audito­rium long after Mr. Keating and the other students had taken seats in front. They sat in the back and when his friends spotted him with Chris they shot him gestures of encouragement.

On stage, the performance had begun. Sporting a crown of flowers, Neil made his grand entrance as Puck, and the Dead Poets Society cheered him loudly. Neil scanned the audience with a momen­tary look of fear. Todd crossed his fingers.

"'How now, spirit! Whither wander you?'" Neil began as Puck.

'"Over hill, over dale, thorough bush, thorough brier . . .'"an actor playing a fairy responded. Mr. Keating glanced at the boys in the audience and gave a thumbs up signal for Neil.

"'Thou speak'st aright;/ I am that merry wan­derer of the night. / I jest to Oberon, and make him smile, /When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,/ Neighing in likeness of a filly foal . . .'"

Neil's friends watched him intently as he deliv­ered his lines with skill and ease enjoying every moment, getting laughs in all the right places. Todd sat mouthing the lines with him as if this might help Neil get through it. But Neil needed no help.

"He's good! He's really good!!" Charlie whis­pered excitedly to his friends.

The play continued with the characters of Lysander and Hermia. Ginny Danburry played Hermia, dressed in an eye-catching costume of leaves and twigs.

"'One turf shall serve as pillow for us both;/One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth."'

"'Nay, good Lysander, for my sake, my dear,/ Lie further off yet; do not lie so near,'" Ginny replied as Hermia.

Charlie flipped through the program looking for the name of the girl playing Hermia. "Ginny Dan­burry! She's beautiful!" he sighed as his eyes re­turned to her leaves and twigs.

"'But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy / Lie further off, in human modesty; / Such separation as may well be said/Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid , /So far be distant; and, good night, sweet friend. / Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end!'" Ginny recited.

Charlie sat enraptured by her. As Ginny and Lysander played their scene, Neil stood in the wings looking out. Suddenly, he spotted his father enter the rear of the auditorium and stand at the back. His pulse quickened but his expression re­mained calm.

On stage, Lysander and Ginny completed their scene. "'Here is my bed. Sleep give thee all his rest!'" Lysander said.

"'With half that wish the wisher's eyes be pressed!"' Hermia returned.

The pair lay down on the stage, and their char­acters went to sleep. A musical interlude signaled Puck's re-entry to the scene.

Neil moved in the wordless lyrical revelry unin­hibited, joyful, magical. The other characters ap­peared in the slow motion interlude as well. Hermia, glowing brightly, held Charlie spellbound. Mr, Keating, Todd, and the other boys sat awed and delighted by the whole production. Knox missed most of the show because he stared at Chris in complete rapture, and trying hard not to show it, Chris found herself becoming infatuated with Knox as well.

As the musical interlude ended, Neil stood alone on the stage as Puck. He addressed the entire audience but directed his words toward his father, who had remained standing at the rear of the auditorium.

"If we shadows have offended,

Think but this, and all is mended,

That you have but slumbered here

While these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme,

No more yielding but a dream,

Gentles, do not reprehend;

If you pardon, we will mend.

And as I am an honest Puck,

If we have unearned luck

Now to scape the serpent's tongue,

We will make amends ere long;

Else the Puck a liar call.

So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, if we be friends,

And Robin shall restore amends."

The curtain fell on Nell's closing monologue, ard the audience burst into enthusiastic applause. The boys had dispelled all doubt of Neil’s talent as an actor, and as they rose to a standing ovation, the entire audience followed suit, cheering Neil and the cast through extra curtain calls.

The actors took their bows one by one. Ginny received great applause, and she smiled at Charlie, who applauded and shouted bravos extra loudly. Knox smiled at Chris and stopped clapping to take her hand. Chris did not resist.

When Neil came out and took his bows, his friends cheered wildly. After the applause, the members of the cast came out into the auditorium and mingled with the audience. Several people rushed to the stage to offer their congratulations.

"Family and friends may meet cast members in the lobby, please!" the director called over the microphone.

"Neil!" Todd and the others called. "We'll meet you in the lobby. You were great!"

Onstage, Ginny Danburry was, mobbed by well-wishers. Charlie ignored the director's announce­ment and leapt onto the stage. "You were great!" he heard another boy tell her. He noticed that Lysander had his arm around Ginny.

"Congratulations, Ginny!" Lysander said, hug­ging her. Undaunted, Charlie pushed his way over to Ginny.

"Bright light shines from your eyes," he said with total sincerity. Ginny saw that he meant it and smiled back. They stared into each other's eyes until finally Lysander smiled awkwardly and moved away.

Backstage, in the boys' dressing room, the jubi­lant cast carried Neil on their shoulders in praise of his performance. After a moment of celebration, the director entered the dressing room, a worried look on her face.

"Neil," she whispered in a hushed tone. "Your father." Neil hopped off the shoulders of his friends and followed her out, stopping in the wings to put on his coat. He saw his father standing at the back of the auditorium and paused. Neil stepped off the stage, and, taking off the headpiece as he walked, he slowly approached his father.

Charlie spotted Neil. "Neil?" he called. But Neil did not answer. Then Charlie saw Neil join his father, and sensing that something was wrong, he grabbed Ginny's hand and led her off the stage.

Keating and the gang were waiting for Neil in the lobby. "Hey everybody, this is Chris," Knox said, joining them.

“Whoa, we've heard a lot about you!" Meeks said as Knox stared him down. "I mean . . . you know… I mean ..." Meeks stammered.

Suddenly, the door to the lobby burst open, and Mr. Perry led Neil like a prisoner out of the auditorium toward the front door. Charlie and Ginny came out behind them. People in the crowds yelled congratulations at Neil. Stuck behind the throng, Todd tried to reach his friend.

"Neil, that was great! Neil!" Todd shouted.

"We're having a party!" Knox called.

Neil turned around. "It's no use," he said sadly. Mr. Keating reached Neil and took him by the shoulders.

"Neil, you were brilliant!" Keating beamed.

Mr. Perry pushed Keating's hands away. "You! Keep away from him!" Mr. Perry shouted. A stunned silence followed his harsh words. He led Neil outside to his car and pushed him in. Charlie started to follow them outside, but Keating held him back.

"Don't make it any worse than it is," he said sadly.

Mr. Perry started the car and pulled off. Through the car window, Neil looked like a prisoner being taken to his execution.

"Neil!" Todd screamed as the car drove away.

Stunned, the members of the Dead Poets Society stood silently in the lobby. Charlie walked over to Mr. Keating. "Is it okay if we walk back?" he asked.

"Sure," Keating said, chilled with sympathy, as he watched the "Dead Poets," along with Chris and Ginny, leave the lobby and walk out into the cold, dark night.

Chapters 11, 12

1. Study the active vocabulary. Recall the situations in which it is employed.

to quit

to talk back to smb.

to be through with smth.

to make sacrifices

a substitute for smth.

with skill and ease

to hold smb. spellbound

in rapture

infatuated

to dispel all doubt of smth.

a well-wisher

stunned

2. Answer the questions:

1. Is it easy to quit smoking?

2. Do you sometimes talk back to people? Why does it happen?

3. What do you plan to do when you are through with your studies?

4. What sort of people make sacrifices for the sake of others’ well-being?

5. Do you think the computer is a good substitute for the teacher?

6. Can you do a lot with skill and ease?

7. What helps women hold men spellbound?

8. Have you ever been infatuated?

3. Complete the sentences using the active vocabulary under study:

1. If you are a professional, you…

2. Bergman’s films…

3. It’s high time we…

4. Can love…?

5. He is so humble and well-bred, he’ll never …

6. After the student’s harsh remark, the teacher…

7. When the performance was over…

8. To keep body and soul together we need…

4. Ask the additional information throwing light upon the state of things (explain what caused the following utterances and what they mean):

1. “Neil, you are going to quit this ridiculous play immediately”, Mr. Perry barked. (p. 1)

2. They appeared to be having difficulty eating, and old Dr. Hager approached their table, eyeing the boys suspiciously. (p. 2)

3. “Show him with your passion and commitment that it’s what you really want to do.” (p. 4)

4. Knox lowered the paper and looked at Chris, who, utterly embarrassed, peeked out at him through her fingers. Knox put the poem and the flowers on her desk. (p. 6)

5. Suddenly the door of the lobby burst open, and Mr. Perry led Neil like a prisoner out of the auditorium toward the front door. (p. 10)

5. Questions and topics for discussion:

1. The obvious changes in the students’ minds and behavior.

• Comment on the incident in the dining hall. Why did the boys feel the necessity to break old habits?

• The time spent in the cave. Can you say that the students took refuge there? Why? What activities were they preoccupied with?

• Knox makes a love confession. What made him confess his love for Chris? Did the presence of other students in the classroom confuse him?

1. Neil’s participation in the play.

• Why was it so important for him to take part in it? How does he explain it to Todd and Mr. Keating?

• Why did his father object to it?

• What was the reason for Neil’s telling a lie?

• Did the play make a hit with the public?

• How did Neil’s father react to his acting?

1. Discuss the moral aspect of the following actions and utterances:

• “I don’t care if the world is coming to an end tomorrow night, you are through with that play! Is that clear?” (p. 2)

• Lying next to the picture was a half-written letter. Charlie picked up the paper and read: “My darling Jessica…” (p. 3)

• “All I’m asking you to do is listen”, he said, as he unfolded his poem and began to read. The teacher and the class turned and stared at Knox in amazement. (p. 5)

• “Yeah.” Neil felt the lie grow bigger. “He didn’t like it one bit, but at least he is letting me stay in the play.” (p. 6)

• Mr. Perry pushed Keating’s hands away. “You! Keep away from him!” Mr. Perry shouted. (p. 10)

Chapter 13

Neil's mother sat in the corner of the small, stuffy study, her eyes swollen with tears. Mr. Perry sat rigidly at his desk.

The door opened and Neil walked in, still wear­ing his Puck costume, his eyes also red from crying. He looked toward his mother and started to speak, but his father quickly interrupted.

"Son, I am trying very hard to understand why you insist on defying us but whatever the reason, I am not going to let you ruin your life. Tomorrow I am withdrawing you from Welton and enrolling you in Braden Military School. You are going to Harvard and you are going to be a doctor.

Fresh tears welled in Neil's bloodshot eyes. "Father," he pleaded, "that's ten more years. Don’t you see, that's a lifetime!"

"You have opportunities I never dreamed of!" Mr. Perry shouted. "I won’t let you squander them." He stalked out of the room.

Neil's mother looked like she wanted to say something, but she remained silent and followed her husband out of the room.

Neil stood alone, completely drained of emotion, trying not to think about the future his father had just laid out for him.

Rather than walking directly back to Welton, the pledges of the Dead Poets Society decided to go to the cave. Todd, Meeks, Pitts, Charlie and Ginny, and Knox and Chris sat huddled around the blazing candle of the cave god for warmth. Charlie held a half-empty glass of wine, and the empty bottle sat on the ground nearby. The boys stared morosely into the flame, aware that it was a symbol of Neil, who had brought it to the cave.

"Knox," Chris said. "I have to go home now. Chet might call."

"It's just for a little while” Knox said, squeezing her hand. "You promised."

"You're so infuriating!" She half-smiled.

"Where's Cameron?" Meeks asked.

Charlie took a sip of wine. "Who knows; who cares?"

Todd suddenly jumped up and pounded the walls with his fists. "Next time I see Neil's father I'm gonna smash him. I don't care what happens to me!

"Don't be stupid," Pitts said.

Todd paced up and down the cave. Suddenly, Mr. Keating poked his head in, illuminated from behind by the moonlight.

"Mr. Keating!" the boys cried in surprise.

Charlie hid the bottle of wine and the glass. "I thought I'd find you here," Keating said. "Now we mustn't be glum. Neil wouldn't want it that way."

"Why don't we have a meeting in his honor!" Charlie suggested. 'Captain, will you lead it?" The other boys seconded the motion.

"Fellows, I don't know ..." Keating hesitated.

"Come on, Mr. Keating, please ..." Meeks urged.

Keating looked around at the pleading faces. "Okay, but only a short one," Keating relented. He thought for a moment, then began: "'I went to the woods because I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life! To put to rout all that was not life. And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.'" He paused. "From Mr. e.e. cummings:

"dive for dreams

or a slogan may topple you

(trees are their roots

and wind is wind)

trust your heart

if the seas catch fire

(and live by love

though the stars walk backward)

honour the past

but welcome the future

(and dance your death

away at this wedding)

never mind a world

with its villains or heroes

(for god likes girls

and tomorrow and the earth)"

Keating paused and looked around. "Now, who else wants to read?" No one spoke. "Come on boys, don't be shy," he urged.

"I have something," Todd said.

"The thing you've been writing?" Charlie asked.

Todd nodded. "Yeah."

The boys were really surprised that Todd had volunteered. He stepped forward and took some crumpled papers from his pocket, passing slips of paper to each of the others.

"Everybody read this between verses," he said, holding up the slips of paper.

Todd opened his poem and read:

"We are dreaming of tomorrow, and tomorrow isn't coming;

We are dreaming of a glory that we don't really want.

We are dreaming of a new day when the new day's here already

We are running from the battle when it's one that must be fought."

Todd nodded. Everyone read, "And still we sleep." Todd continued:

"We are listening for the calling but never really heeding,

Hoping for the future when the future's only plans.

Dreaming of the wisdom that we are dodging daily,

Praying for a savior when salvation's in our hands.

"And still we sleep.

"And still we sleep.

And still we pray.

And still we fear . . ."

He paused sadly, '"And still we sleep.'" He folded up the poem. Everyone in the cave ap­plauded.

"That was great!" Meeks cheered. Todd beamed, modestly taking in all the praise and the congratu­latory slaps on the back. Keating smiled with great pride at his student's enormous progress. He plucked a spherical icicle hanging from the roof of the cave and peered into it.

"I hold in my hand a crystal ball. In it I see great things for Todd Anderson," he intoned. Todd faced Mr. Keating, then suddenly, powerfully, they hugged. When they drew apart, Keating turned to the others.

"And now," Keating continued, "'General William Booth Enters Into Heaven,' by Vachel Lindsay. When I pause, you ask, 'Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?'"

Keating recited: "'Booth led boldly with his big bass drum. . . .'"The others answered, "'Are you washed in the blood of the lamb?'" Keating headed out of the cave, followed by the boys and girls, reciting poetry all the way home.

As his friends paid him homage in the cave, Neil sat alone in his darkened room at home, gazing out the window. The passion had dried up and left his body. All feeling was drained from his face and limbs. He believed he was a brittle empty shell that would soon be crushed by the weight of the falling snow.

Chapter 14

The moon was full. The stars were out in abun­dance. The night was clear and cold. The trees hung heavy with icicles as the boys, Ginny, and Chris followed Mr. Keating out into the night. The freeze had turned the barren forest into a world of sparkling diamonds. The group walked through the woods behind Keating as he recited: "The Saints smiled gravely and they said, "He's come . . ."'"

'"Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?" they chorused.

"'Walking lepers followed rank on rank, lurching bravos from the ditches dank, drabs from the alleyways and drug fiends pale, Minds still passion ridden, soul-powers frail . . .'"

"'Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? "' they repeated.

As the Society marched through the still of the night, an ominous silence settled over the Perry home. Mr. and Mrs. Perry got into bed and turned off their bedroom light. They did not hear the door to another room open. Neil walked into the hall. He turned a corner and slipped quietly downstairs. Moonlight illuminated Mr. Perry's study. Neil walked to his father's desk, opened the top drawer and reached way in the back. He pulled out a key and with it, he unlocked the bottom drawer of the desk. Neil sat in the leather desk chair and, reach­ing across the desk, he picked up the crown of flowers he'd worn as Puck and put it on his head.

The group stopped beside the waterfall, which had frozen. The icy sculpture seemed to defy the laws of gravity as the students looked at its remarkable form. The sky was incredibly clear. Moonlight bouncing off the snow cast a strange bluish glow on the group as Keating continued the poem:

"Christ came gently with a robe and crown,

For Booth the soldier, while the throng knelt down.

He saw King Jesus. They were face to face,

and he knelt a-weeping in that holy place."

"'Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?'" they recited again.

The moonlight and the mystical wonder of the frozen waterfall combined with the magical poetry to set the group dancing and playing in the snow. They worked themselves into a joyful, frantic rev­elry.

Knox and Chris drifted away from the group and embraced. They kissed, soft and warm, under the frozen moon.

Mr. and Mrs. Perry were fast asleep when the quick, short sound broke the night's silence. "What was that?" Mr. Perry sat up.

"What?" his wile asked, half-asleep.

"That sound? Didn't you hear it?'

"What sound?"

Mr. Perry climbed out of bed and walked into the hallway. He walked up and down the hall, finally entering Neil's room. He ran out and down the stairs as Mrs. Perry followed, trying to get her robe on over her flailing arms.

Mr. Perry walked into the study and turned on the light. He looked around. Everything seemed normal, but just as he turned to leave, he spotted the glistening black object lying on the carpet—his revolver. Panicked, he moved around the desk until he saw the pale white hand. He gasped.

Neil lay on the floor, bathed in his own blood. Mr. Perry knelt down and embraced his son while his wife let out an anguished scream.

"No!" Mr. Perry cried. "No!"

Mr. Keating and the boys took the girls home and returned to Welton in the early-morning hours.

“I’m wiped, drained,” Todd said as he headed to his room. "I'm going to sleep until noon."

But early the next morning, Charlie, Knox, and Meeks walked into Todd's room. The boys' faces were ashen. They looked down at Todd, who snored peacefully.

"Todd, Todd," Charlie called softly.

Todd opened his eyes and sat up, looking ex­hausted. After a few moments, his eyes adjusted to the light. He closed them and lay back down. Then, feeling for his clock, he picked it up and squinted.

"It's only eight. I gotta sleep," he said, pulling the covers over his head. He sat up suddenly, his eyes wide open. His friends were still standing there, silent, and he sensed that something was wrong.

"Todd, Neil’s dead. He shot himself”, Charlie said.

Todd felt his head spin. "Oh, my God! Oh, Neil!" he wailed as he jumped from his bed and ran down the hall, screaming, to the bathroom. He sat on his knees in the stall and vomited until he thought his guts would come out. His friends waited helplessly outside.

Todd came out of the stall, wiping his mouth. Tears streamed down his face. He walked back and forth in the bathroom. "Someone has to know it was his father! Neil wouldn't kill himself! He loved living!" he cried.

"You don't seriously think his father . . ." Knox said.

"Not with the gun!" Todd shouted. "Damn it, even if the bastard didn't pull the trigger, he . . ." Todd's sobs drowned his words until, finally, he controlled himself. "Even if Mr. Perry didn't shoot him," Todd said calmly, "he killed him. They have to know that!" He ran across the room, screaming painfully, "Neil! Neil!" Falling against the wall, he started sobbing again, and the boys left him alone, sitting on the floor, to cry out his grief.

Not knowing that the boys even knew, Mr. Keating sat at his desk in his empty classroom, struggling to control his emotion. He stood and walked slowly to Neil's desk. He picked up a book, his own battered and worn poetry anthology, and, as he opened it, his eyes focused on his own writing: "Dead Poets." He slumped heavily into Neil's chair, unable to hold back a cry of anguish and grief.

The following morning was cold and somber, a bleak winter's day with bitter gusts of wind that whipped around the procession led by the haunting lament of the school bagpiper.

Neil was buried in the town of Welton. The Dead Poets carried his coffin on their shoulders. His mother, veiled in black, watched the procession with his father, both of them stunned by their grief. Mr. Nolan, Mr. Keating, and other teachers and students watched solemnly as Neil was laid to rest.

After the burial, the entire school assembled in the Welton chapel. The teachers, including Mr. Keating, stood along the walls. The assembly sang a hymn before the chaplain spoke.

"Almighty God, grant us the grace to entrust Neil Perry into the arms of thy never-failing mercy. Bless Neil and keep him. Cause the light of your countenance to shine upon him and be gracious unto him. Lift up your eyes upon him and grant him peace, now, and forevermore. Amen."

"Amen."

Mr. Nolan followed the chaplain at the podium. "Gentlemen, the death of Neil Perry is a tragedy. He was a fine student, one of Welton's best, and he will be missed. We have contacted each of your parents to explain the situation. Naturally, all are quite concerned. At the request of Neil's family, I intend to conduct a thorough inquiry into this matter. Your complete cooperation is expected," Nolan said.

The assembly was dismissed, and the boys filed silently out of the chapel. Charlie, Todd, Knox, Pitts, Meeks, and Cameron walked out together, then went their separate ways.

Later, all but Cameron and Meeks reassembled in the junk-filled trunk room in the basement of their dorm. There was a knock at the door. Meeks entered.

"I can’t find him," Meeks shook his head.

"You told him about this meeting? Charlie asked.

"Twice," Meeks said.

"That's it. Great!" Charlie threw up his hands. He went to the window and looked out across the lawn toward the administration building. He turned and faced his friends. "That's it, guys, we're all fried."

"What do you mean?" Pitts asked.

"Cameron's a fink! He's in Nolan's office right now, finking!"

"About what?" Pitts asked.

"The club, Pitts. Think about it." Pitts and the others looked bewildered. "They need a scapegoat," Charlie said. "Schools go under because of things like this."

The boys sat in the trunk room and stared at each other. Soon they heard the sound of a door opening down the hall. Knox went to the door and looked out to see Cameron entering the hallway. Knox stepped out and motioned for Cameron to hurry up.

"Cameron!' he whispered loudly. Cameron looked at Knox. He hesitated, then walked down the hall and entered the trunk room. The rest of the group stared at him.

"What's going on, guys?" Cameron asked innocently.

"You finked, didn't you, Cameron?" Charlie said, grabbing his shirt collar.

Cameron pulled away. "To hell with you, dumbo, I don't know what you're talking about!"

"You just told Nolan everything about the club is what I'm talking about," Charlie shouted.

"In case you hadn't heard, Dalton, there's something called an honor code at this school. If a teacher asks you something, you tell the truth or you're expelled."

Charlie moved toward Cameron again. "Why you ..."

Meeks and Knox pulled Charlie off. "Charlie ..." Knox said.

"He's a rat! He's in it up to his eyes so he ratted to save himself!" Charlie shouted.

"Don't touch him, Charlie," Knox warned. "You do and you're out."

"I'm out anyway," Charlie said, pushing back.

"He's right, there. And if you're smart, every one of you will do exactly what I did and cooperate. They’re not after us. We're the victims. Us and Neil."

"What does that mean?" Charlie asked. "Who are they after?"

"Why, Mr. Keating, of course. The 'Captain' himself. You didn't really think he could avoid responsibility, did you?"

"Mr. Keating? Responsible for Neil? Is that what they're saying?" Charlie pulled himself free of Meeks and Knox.

"Who else do you think, dumbo?" Cameron said. "The administration? Mr. Perry? Keating put us up to all this, didn't he? If it wasn't for him, Neil would be cozied up in his room right now, studying his chemistry and dreaming of being called doctor."

"That's not true!" Todd cried. "Mr. Keating didn't tell Neil what to do. Neil loved acting."

"Believe what you want," Cameron shrugged. "But I say let Keating fry. Why ruin our lives?"

"You bastard!" Charlie bolted across the room and struck Cameron in the jaw. Cameron fell to the floor, and Charlie straddled him.

"Charlie!" Knox groaned.

Cameron looked up and grinned as he rubbed his cheek. "You just signed your expulsion papers, Nuwanda," he laughed. He covered his bleeding nose. Charlie turned and walked out. The others followed him.

Cameron lay alone on the floor. He shouted after them, "If you guys are smart, you'll do exactly what I did! They know everything anyway. You can’t save Keating, but you can save yourselves!"

Chapter 15

In the room, Neil's bed stood stripped and his desk empty. Todd sat at the window, looking across the campus at the administration building. As he watched, he saw Meeks escorted out of the building and toward the dorm by Dr. Hager.

Todd peeked out of the door of the room. Meeks and Hager entered the hallway, and Hager waited while Meeks walked silently back to his room.

He passed Todd without even looking at him, and Todd saw the tears streaming down his face. Meeks slammed his door shut behind him.

"Knox Overstreet," Dr. Hager called, as he waited impatiently at the end of the hall.

Knox came out of his room and joined Hager. They walked out the door and back across the campus.

Todd waited a few minutes, then walked across the hall to Meeks's room. He knocked. "Meeks, it's Todd," he called.

"Go away," Meeks said, his voice hoarse and throaty. "I have to study."

Todd paused, realizing what had happened. "What happened to Nuwanda?" Todd asked Meeks through the closed door.

"Expelled," Meeks said flatly.

Todd stood stunned. "What did you tell them?" Todd asked, again through the door.

"Nothing they didn't already know," Meeks said.

Todd turned away. He returned to his window and watched as Knox was escorted back to the dorm. Again, Todd peered into the hall. Knox and Hager entered. Knox's chin quivered, on the verge of breaking down, and he went into his room, quietly closing the door. Todd stepped back into his room and leaned against the wall. He was shaken as he realized that Knox had been broken. Then he heard his own name called.

"Todd Anderson." It was Dr. Hager. He waited at the end of the hallway. Todd took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. He opened the door and walked slowly toward the teacher.

Dr. Hager shuffled across the campus, huffing and puffing from the obvious strain of all the running back and forth. He stopped outside the administration building, caught his breath, and walked in.

Todd followed Hager up the staircase leading to Mr. Nolan’s office, feeling like a man climbing to the gallows.

Nolan sat at his desk, and Todd was startled to see his parents seated nearby.

"Dad, Mom," he said.

"Have a seat, Mr. Anderson," Nolan ordered.

Todd sat in the empty chair that had been placed in front of Nolan's desk. He looked at his parents, who sat steely-eyed and grim. A drop of perspira­tion fell from his brow and stained his shirt.

"Mr. Anderson, I think we've pretty well put together what's happened here. You do admit to being a part of this Dead Poets Society?" Nolan asked.

Todd looked at his parents and at Nolan. He closed his eyes. Before he could nod "yes," his father spoke. "Answer him!" Mr. Anderson said angrily.

“Yes,” Todd said faintly.

"I can’t hear you, Todd," Nolan said.

"Yes, sir," Todd answered, not much louder than before.

Nolan looked at Todd and his parents. He held up a piece of paper. "I have here a detailed description of what went on at your meetings. It describes how your teacher, Mr. Keating, encouraged you boys to organize the club and use it as a source of inspiration for reckless, sell-indulgent behavior. It describes how Mr. Keating, both in and out of the classroom, encouraged Neil Perry to follow this obsession of acting when he knew it went directly against the explicit orders of Neil's parents. It is Mr. Keating's blatant abuse of his position as a teacher that led directly to Neil Perry's death."

Nolan handed the paper to Todd. "Read this carefully, Todd," Nolan added. "If you don't have anything to add or amend, sign it."

Todd took the paper and read it, spending a long time doing so. By the time he finished, his hands and the paper were shaking. He looked up. "What . . . what is going ... to ... hap­pen ... to Mr. Keating?" he asked Nolan.

His father stood up and shook his fist. "What does that have to do with you?"

"It's all right, Mr. Anderson," Nolan said. "Sit down please. I want him to know." He turned to Todd. "We are not yet clear as to whether Mr. Keating has broken any laws. If he has, he will be prosecuted. What we can do—and yours and the other signatures will help to guarantee it—is see to it that Mr. Keating will never teach again."

"Never . . . teach . . . ?" Todd stammered.

His father stood again and moved toward Todd. "I've had enough," he shouted. "Sign the paper, Todd."

"Please, darling," his mother said from her seat. "For our sakes."

"But . . . teaching is his life! It means every­thing to him!" Todd cried.

"What do you care?" Mr. Anderson shouted.

"What do you care about me?" Todd shouted back. "He cares about me! You don't!"

Todd's father stood over him, white with rage, and picked up the pen. "Sign the paper, Todd," he ordered.

Todd shook his head. "No. I won't sign it."

"Todd!" his mother cried out.

"It's not true! I won't sign it."

Todd's father grabbed the pen and tried to put it back in Todd's hand. Nolan stood up.

"That's all right. Let him suffer the conse­quences," he said. He walked around his desk to stand in front of Todd. "You think you can save Mr. Keating?" Nolan asked. "You saw it, boy, we have the signatures of all the others. But, if you don't sign, you're on disciplinary probation for the rest of the year. You’ll do work duty every afternoon and every weekend. And, if you set foot off campus, you'll be expelled."

Todd's parents and Mr. Nolan watched Todd, waiting for him to change his mind. Todd sat silent.

"I won’t sign," he said softly but firmly.

"Then I'll see you back here after classes," Nolan said, turning his back. "Leave."

Todd stood and walked out the door. Nolan looked at Todd's parents. "I'm sorry, Mr. Nolan," Mrs. Anderson said. "I can't help but feel this is our fault."

"We never should have sent him here," Mr. Anderson said, looking down at the floor.

"Nonsense," Nolan said. "Boys his age are highly impressionable. We'll bring him around."

The next day, Mr. McAllister led a group of Latin students across the snow-covered campus as they repeated verbs out loud. He stopped and looked up at the teachers' residence floor where he noticed the lonely figure of Mr. Keating, watching out the window. Their eyes met briefly. McAllister turned away, took a deep breath, and resumed walking with the boys.

Keating moved from the window after seeing McAllister. He walked to his bookshelf and started to take down his beloved books of poetry—Byron, Whitman, Wordsworth. He sighed and put them back. Closing his suitcase, he walked to the door of the tiny room, took one last look, and left.

As Keating prepared to leave, his former stu­dents were in English class. Todd sat numbly, eyes cast downward, the way he had sat when school first began. Knox, Meeks, and Pitts looked humiliated as they squirmed in their seats. All of the former club members were too ashamed of themselves to even look at one another. Only Cameron appeared halfway normal, studying at his desk as though nothing had happened.

Conspicuously missing from the room were the desks that belonged to Neil and Charlie.

The door opened suddenly and Mr. Nolan walked in. The boys stood. Nolan sat at the teach­er's desk, and they all sat down. "I will be taking over this class through exams," Nolan said as he looked around the room. "We will find a permanent English teacher during the break. Who will tell me where you are in the Pritchard textbook?"

Nolan looked around. There were no volunteers.

"Mr. Anderson?"

"The . . .Pritchard . . ." Todd repeated, bare­ly audible. He looked through his books, fumbling nervously.

"I can't hear you, Mr. Anderson," Nolan said.

"I ... think . . . we ..." Todd said, still speaking softly.

"Mr. Cameron," Nolan said, exasperated by Todd's response, "kindly inform me."

"We skipped around a lot, sir. We covered the romantics and some of the chapters on post-Civil War literature."

"What about the realists?' Nolan asked.

"I believe we skipped most of that," Cameron said.

Nolan stared at Cameron and then looked around the class. "All right then, we'll start over. What is poetry?" He waited for an answer. No one volunteered. Suddenly the door to the classroom opened, and Mr. Keating walked in.

"I came for my personals," he said to Nolan. "Should I wait until after class?"

"Get your things, Mr. Keating," Nolan said testily. He turned to the class. "Gentlemen, turn to page 21 of the introduction. Mr. Cameron, read aloud the excellent essay by Dr. Pritchard on understanding poetry."

"Mr. Nolan, that page has been ripped out," Cameron said.

"Then borrow somebody else's book," Nolan said, losing his patience.

"They're all ripped out, sir," Cameron reported.

Nolan stared at Keating. "What do you mean they're all ripped out?"

"Sir, we ..." Cameron started.

"Never mind, Cameron," Nolan said. He handed his textbook to Cameron. "Read!" he ordered.

"'Understanding Poetry' by Dr. J. Evans Pritch­ard, PhD. 'To fully understand poetry, we must first be fluent with its meter, rhyme, and figures of speech, then ask two questions: 1) how artfully has the objective . . .'"

As Cameron continued reading, Keating stood at the closet in the corner of the room, looking at the students. He saw Todd, whose eyes were full of tears. He saw Knox, Meeks, Pitts . . . still too ashamed to look him in the eye, but nevertheless, full of emotion. He sighed. The irony of Nolan's choosing the Pritchard essay just as he walked in the room was just too incredible. He finished packing and walked across the room toward the door. Just as Keating reached the door, Todd jumped up.

"Mr. Keating," he cried out, interrupting Cameron's reading.

"They made everybody sign it!"

Nolan stood up angrily. "Quiet, Mr. Andersen," he ordered.

"Mr. Keating," Todd continued, "it's true. You have to believe me!"

"I believe you, Todd," Keating said softly.

Nolan was enraged. "Leave, Mr. Keating!" he shouted.

"But it wasn't his fault, Mr. Nolan!" Todd refused to stop.

Nolan rushed down the aisle and pushed Todd back into his seat. "Sit down, Mr. Anderson!" he shouted. "One more outburst from you . . ."He turned toward the rest of the class. "Or anyone else, and you are out of this school!" Nolan turned toward Keating, who had stepped back into the room toward Todd, as though to help. "Leave, Mr. Keating!" he shrieked. "Now!"

The boys stared at Keating. He stared back at them, taking them all in for the last time. Then he turned and walked toward the door.

"O Captain! My Captain!" Todd called out. Keating turned to look at Todd. The rest of the class turned, too. Todd propped one foot up on his desk, hoisted himself up onto it, and, fighting back tears, faced Mr. Keating.

"Sit down," Nolan yelled as he moved toward Todd.

As Nolan started down the aisle toward him, Knox, on the other side of the room, called out Mr. Keating’s name and stood up on his desk too. Nolan turned toward Knox. Meeks mustered up his courage and stood up on his desk. Pitts did the same. One by one, and then in groups, others in the class followed their lead, standing on their desks in silent salute to Mr. Keating.

Nolan gave up trying to control the class and stood motionless, staring in amazement at this overwhelming tribute to the former English teacher.

Keating stood at the door, overcome with emotion. "Thank you, boys,' he said. "I . . thank you." Keating looked into Todd’s eyes, then into the eyes of all the Dead Poets. He nodded, then turned and walked out the door, leaving them standing on their desks in silent salute.

Assignment VI. Chapters 13 – 15.

1. Study the active vocabulary. Recall the situations in which it is employed.

to be drained of emotions

to volunteer

to be fast asleep

to cry out one’s grief

to conduct an inquiry into (some matter)

a scapegoat

an honour code

to be up to one’s ears (eyes) in smth.

to be after smb.

to put smb. up to smth.

abuse of one’s position

(to pay) tribute to smb.

2. Make up 6 problem questions and 6 philosophical statements with the vocabulary under study.

3. Say who made these utterances and under what circumstances:

1. “You have opportunities I have never dreamed of! I won’t let you squander them.” (p. 1)

2. “I hold in my hand a crystal ball. In it I see great things for Todd Anderson.” (p. 3)

3. “Someone has to know it was his father! Neil wouldn’t kill himself. He loved living.” (p. 5)

4. If you guys are smart, you’ll do exactly what I did! They know everything anyway. You can’t save Keating, but you can save yourselves!”(p. 7)

5. “But … teaching is his life! It means everything to him!”(p. 8)

6. “Thank you, boys” (p. 10)

4. Questions and topics for discussion:

1. Neil’s triumph and death:

• How did the society pledges pay Neil homage in the cave?

• Analyze Todd’s poem. What is its message?

• What kind of future did Mr. Perry lay out for Neil?

• What was Neil thinking about when he was left alone?

• Why did he shoot himself?

• Was there another way out?

• Was his death an act of victory or defeat?

• Do you agree with Todd that even if Mr. Perry didn’t shoot Neil, he killed him?

• Discuss the reasons for conducting the inquiry into Neil’s death.

2. Mr. Keating’s dismissal:

• Was Mr. Keating responsible for Neil’s death?

• Speak about the ways the students behaved during the investigation and about the unpleasant consequences that followed.

• Why was Mr. Keating sacked?

• Do you think that Neil and other boys were the victims of Mr. Keating’s teaching?

• Did they betray him and what he preached?

Assignment VII. Discussion of the Novel.

Use the active vocabulary discussing the following items:

1. The Welton Academy:

• Type of school

• Its aims

• Rules and regulations

• Demerits and punishment

• Teaching and teachers

• Frustration caused by Mr. Keating

2. Mr. Keating:

• His professional background

• His main aim

• His lessons and teaching

• Influence on the students

3. Neil Perry:

• As a son (his family, relations with his father)

• As a student (his interests, achievements)

• Personal traits (a friend, a leader, his desires and ambitions)

4. Todd Anderson:

• His background and relations in his family

• The development of his personality and the role Neil and Mr. Keating played in it.

5. Dead Poets Society:

• The aim and the activities of the organization

• Its influence on the boys’ lives

6. The author’s main idea.